The Graveyard of Stars
by outcarnate
Summary: [AU Bright City Lights Series #2] Get in, loser. We're going on an adventure.


_**DISCLAIMER: I QUITE OBVIOUSLY DO NOT OWN FAIRY TAIL. **_

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**The Graveyard of Stars**

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**I**

_May 20, 2009_

**+1-800-233-4175**

_11:49 PM_

lis, i dont rly know how 2 say this, but i dont think this is going 2 work :( i have 2 go, and me and u both know that. thing is i dont want to leave u hangin on some1 who aint even gonna be around. i want u 2 find some1 hu will be there 4 u. long distans is not fair 2 any1, and i love u 2 much 2 let u go thru that. goodbye, lis, im gonna miss u :((

_May 21, 2009_

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:07 AM_

1) What kind of asshole breaks up with his girlfriend through text?

2) Wrong number.

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:13 AM_

stfu man u don't even know what im goin thru rn cant judge me. sorry for the wrong send but dont be such a dick about it 8=D ..I..

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:20 AM_

Yeah, you're right. I have no idea who you are or what you're going through. The only thing I know is that you're breaking up with your girlfriend through a text message, and I'm pretty sure that is a dick move, no matter what situation.

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:28 AM_

yah i know, ok? im a terrified piece of shit, bc this girl is important 2 me. ive known her since i was 5, and i am scared as hell of hurting her and making her sad

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:33 AM_

Oh my god, grow a vagina and straighten yourself out. You're going to hurt her either way, but I think it will hurt more if you break it off like this. If you really care about her, make sure you're there the first time she cries over this, because that's the least you can do. And your texting language is horrible, so it pretty much makes it twice as bad.

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:35 AM_

tnx for telling me stuff i already know

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:35 AM_

FUCK YOU

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:38 AM _

no srsly. i knew it was the wrong thing 2 do but i couldnt face it. needed to hear it the way you gave it to me. so yah. im gonna grow a vagina now. thanks bro XD

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:41 AM_

Um…you're welcome. And I'm a girl.

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:43 AM_

ookaaayyyy. damn yeah the vagina thing. im walking to her house now

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:45 AM_

You do realize that it is almost 1 am, right?

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:50 AM_

got a train to catch at 4

**+1-415-570-6846**

_12:51 AM_

Oh, well then. Good luck. I hope it all works out in the end.

**+1-800-233-4175**

_12:55 AM_

thanks. me 2 :D

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**II**

_December 23, 2010_

A part of her feels sorry for the lady at the desk. She's most likely been awake far longer than she has at that point. She's probably answered questions exactly like Lucy's at least fifty times before, and by the look of the number of people queuing behind her, she'll have to answer them at least fifty times again. But Lucy, for all her Catholic school girl sweetness and manners, does not simper politely when she's been running on just three shots of espresso and a bagel for fourteen hours.

The blonde leans forward with her elbow propped up on the table, melding her fingers against her temple. "Can you at least give me an estimate of how much longer it's going to take?" she asks exasperatedly.

With obvious effort, the woman forces the corners of her mouth to move upwards into a mechanical, accommodating smile. "I'm sorry, but until this blizzard clears up, we simply cannot let any planes into the air, and our technology does not allow us to find out how long it will take before that."

Lucy sighs and turns around to walk away, grumbling her thanks as she goes. She begins her search for an empty seat, dragging her carry on behind her. There are none left in her waiting area, and so she settles for a chair in the adjacent one. The man on the seat beside it is fast asleep, snoring and with his face obscured by his hood. She beats a haughty looking businessman to it.

It is never wise to fall asleep at an airport, especially one that is packed with characters of the varying sort. Travellers risk the possibilities of having their things stolen, missing their flight, etcetera. She does what she can to stay awake, such as reading the new horror novel she had bought and staring at whatever obnoxious shade of blue she can find. Eventually she has to resort to digging into her purse for her tube of tiger balm and tracing it under her eyes.

And soon enough, she is home again. She spots her father running towards her in the distance, across their well cared for grass terrace. She doesn't know why she suddenly forgets years of bitter hate and the fact that she has tried countless times to run away since she was fourteen years old, but she sprints towards him and it feels like she's floating. He's calling her name and she tries to respond, but all of her words get caught in her throat no matter how hard she tries to cough them out. He grabs onto her and traps her in his arms, and she can feel her body shaking beneath his trembling form…

"Hey, wake up! Wake up! Lady, you're gonna miss your flight!" a stranger's voice says, and her eyes, though groggy, snap wide open once she's been thoroughly shaken awake. The first thing she sees is a guy with the strangest coloured hair –pink, of all colours and palettes –staring at her with a face full of playful urgency.

"Hnghh?"

"You dropped your boarding pass and I picked it up and just really had to look at it and then I heard the announcement that your plane's good to go. Look, they're lining up to board right over there," the man says, pointing behind her. True enough, their waiting area is almost empty save for about four more people waiting to get into the tunnel.

She jumps to her feet and sweeps her belongings into her arms. "Thank you so much. Merry Christmas," she says quickly before hurrying off.

He grins and gives her a small wave that she does not catch, watching as she boards her plane. "Merry Christmas."

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**III**

_December 24, 2010_

The first time Natsu sets his eyes on humble Chesapeake, his heart sinks, as his lead appears to have blown him off course. It looks every bit like a classic ghost town, especially when its wooden _Welcome!_ board falls to the ground as he tries to trace his fingers over the letters crudely carved into it. He huffs, because just when he had though he was getting the hang of this whole reading and researching business, he hits a dead end.

He's about to walk back to his rented car when he spots the flickering of a patio light. He takes a closer look around him and catches the smallest, eeriest thing about the houses around him, like eyes peeking out at him behind fluttering windows, shadows visible on the walls behind glass windows, and the unmistakable whirring of an electric generator.

Because he is enough of an idiot to be virtually fearless, he walks up the steps of the nearest house and knocks on the door. Slowly, the door creaks by the tiniest amount, enough for the old woman behind it to glare at him with one bulging eye.

He gives her what he thinks is a disarming smile. "Good evening, ma'am," he says without missing a beat. "Would you happen to know if a guy named Rabinovich –" She hisses at him and the door is promptly slammed in his face.

That would have been a warning sign to any sane person, but after knitting his eyebrows together in bewilderment, he shrugs it off and moves on to the next time. The second time he knocks on the door, it's a little boy who answers. The door is wide open, giving Natsu a full view of the walls decorated with chipping blue paint and molds, the desk of pictures frames all facing down. The boy stares at him with his head tilted to one side in thoughtful curiosity. Natsu grins at him and kneels down to face him eye to eye.

"Hi. Does anyone named Rabinovich live 'round here?"

The boy opens his mouth to reply, but he is cut off by the sound of his mother's voice and approaching footsteps. "Josh, who are you talking too?" She takes on look at Natsu standing on her doorstep, grabs her son by the scruff of his shirt and slams the door shut. Natsu hears the clicking sound of multiple locks being secured and a woman's hysterical shrieking. He runs from there as fast as he can.

The succeeding houses have heard the commotion and do not bother opening the door when they hear him calling. He is dissuaded from continuing by the time he reaches the sixth house. He walks in the darkness, contemplating his next move, when he suddenly feels a hand grab onto his shoulder. Startled, he pulls away and turns around swiftly, only to find a balding old man, hunched and leaning on his cane.

"What's yer business with Andrei?"

"I'm not lookin' for anyone named Andrei," Natsu replies, puzzled.

The old man snorts and begins tapping his foot impatiently. "Andrei Rabinovich. I 'erd yeh were lookin fer him."

The salmon haired young man brightens immediately. "Yeah! Do you know where he lives?"

"Whaddya want with 'im?"

"I just need to ask him some questions. I'm not gonna hurt him."

Despite the fact that Natsu does not look very threatening with his hopeful puppy dog eyes, bouncing on the soles of his feet, the old man stares at him suspiciously. "What's yer name, kid?"

"Natsu Dragneel."

The old man's eye twitches slightly, and in the darkness Natsu does not see his knees begin to shake. "'E lives down this road. Yeh take the second left and 'e's the first 'ouse on Spinner's Street. It's the one with all the junk on the front lawn. " He quickly turns around and hobbles away.

"Thanks, Gramps!" Natsu waves at him as he disappears into the abyss of the night. He runs to his car and makes the drive. There are no streetlamps, and with only his dimmed headlights to guide him, he moves slowly, following the directions he had been given.

He spots it immediately as soon as he takes the last turn. The house, while larger than most of the others, is rickety, made of wood long defeated by termites and weathering. He parks by the street and walks up the pavement leading to the door. He takes a look around him, and littered across the unkempt grass are fire extinguishers. The whole place reeks of smoke.

There is something very off, and even he can feel it. He tries to shake it off, because after months of tracking this man down, now is not the time to be getting cold feet. But he can feel the Goosebumps rising on his arms, and he has to take a couple deep breaths before steeling the nerve to knock on the door.

However, it swings open before his fist can make contact. His eyes widen at the sight and he retracts his hand, his arms flying into the air as he takes steps backward.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT –"

A man, with a strong jaw and his face full of burns, emerges from the house, holding a gun in front of him and pointing it straight at Natsu. "That's right, now get the fuck off my property, punk," Rabinovich says as he walks forward. His arm does not drop a millimetre, and even at his age, he maintains a steady grip on his revolver, finger expertly and threateningly poised at the trigger.

"Wait, I need to ask you some things –"

"I got nothing to tell you, and even if I did, I wouldn't."

"But it's important!" Natsu pleads. "My dad was your friend, and –"

"All my friends are dead," he chuckles grimly. "As are most of my enemies."

"You gotta listen to me!"

"I don't owe you jack shit." He rolls the cigarette around in his mouth before spitting it out.

"I'm your godson!" Natsu shouts. "I'm Natsu Dragneel!"

This makes Rabinovich halt in his tracks. "Iggy's kid?" He lifts his other arm and shines his flashlight onto Natsu, truly looking at him for the first time. His expressions slowly begins to change, and he darts forward, crushing Natsu under his embrace. He drops his gun and it goes off as it hits the ground. A shot fires and Natsu yelps.

They both stare at the gaping whole clean through his mailbox. Natsu and his godfather stare at each other.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA"

They continue laughing until there are tears in their eyes and they are keeled over clutching their stomachs. Rabinovich rubs his eyes with his knuckles. "You're just like your father, you know. An idiot. A madman."

This makes Natsu's heart swell with pride. "Thanks. But Rabinovich –" He raises a hand and stops him from speaking.

"We're family. Call me Atlas."

"Alright, Atlas, then. I need your help. I'm looking for my dad, and I need you to tell me everything you know about him."

Atlas rubs his chin thoughtfully. "How much do you know already?"

"That he had a dragon tattoo and he disappeared when I was eight." Whatever remnants of laughter on the older man's face were wiped away and replaced with more severe features.

"Let's go inside. There's a lot that must be said, and I still don't know how to break most of them to you yet."

.

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**IV**

March 11, 2011

"Thanks for taking me in, Lev," Lucy says. She sits cross legged on the dark blue carpeted floor, sorting through the clothes scattered around her. Her best friend is laying on her bed, with her head hanging over the edge and her wild blue hair cascading down the sheets.

"It's not charity, Luici, it's a strategic business move. I need a roommate to pay half the rent, and my best friend who needs a place to stay just so happens to be a fabulously wealthy heiress."

Lucy makes a face akin to someone who has smelled a fart akin to the smell of rotten eggs. "You mean former heiress. I'm a fugitive now, remember? And my dad's probably got my account on watch so all the money I've got is in my suitcase."

The blunette gasps, placing her hand on her wide forehead for dramatic effect. "You lied to me! You promised me caviar and half nude manservants with the body of Adonis."

"You only love me for my money," Lucy mock pouts, pretending to wipe away the tears dripping down her dry cheeks.

"Nope. Just your body," Levy says, waggling her eyebrows and winking lecherously before the pair dissolve into a fit of giggles. Levy watches as the other girl sorts through her clothes, offering comments and critiques on each article of clothing, and occasionally Lucy throws some of them at her face.

"That one's adorable!" Levy gushes at the sight of a bright yellow cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline, a pattern of silver thread embroidered across the fabric. "Could I borrow it sometime?"

"Sure. Try it on," Lucy says, throwing the dress her way. Levy raises her hand and catches the tulle underskirt. She shimmies out of her t-shirt and pyjama shorts and slips the dress over her head before bounding to the mirror. Lucy resumes her task until she hears the other girl whine her name. "What is it?" she asks without turning around.

Levy steps out of the bathroom. "Take a guess," she says dejectedly, and even without looking Lucy knows exactly what the problem is. Levy crashes onto the bed, still holding up the dress from the top.

"We can go out shopping this weekend!" Lucy says, settling beside her and patting her on the head. The blunette buries her face into the pillow.

Her voice comes out muffled, but Lucy at least manages to catch what she says. "What's tomorrow?" the blonde asks. Levy turns her face slightly, with her cheek still digging into the soft cushioning.

"It's this…party. A guy on the fifth floor is throwing it. It's not really my kind of thing so I haven't decided if I'm going or not," she replies before resuming her ostrich position.

Because Lucy is more perceptive than people give her credit for, she immediately notices the slight tinge of pink on Levy's ears, and the way she nibbles on her lower lip. Her conclusion is swiftly made.

"What's he like?"

"Mechanic. He's a long hair and piercings type of guy."

"Are you close?"

"Sort of."

"How long have you known each other?"

"A little more than a year."

"What's his name?"

"Gajeel."

"How long have you known you were in love with him?"

"Two months –very funny, Lucy!" Levy growls. She shifts her body to engage in a friendly, passive-aggressive aggressive wrestling match, but the blonde escapes and prances out of their unit's door, calling over her shoulder as she leaves.

"I'm giving you ten to fifteen minutes to get dressed and then we leave. The five minute allowance is if I get lost!"

"You bitch!"

The apartment building, while not very spacious, has a very light feeling about it, with white walls and windows in front of every door. Lucy walks up the stairway, smiling at her fellow tenants as she passes, until she reaches the rooftop. Once she closes the door behind her and stands directly beneath the clouds, she declares to herself that this is her new most favourite spot in the entire world.

She gazes at the numerous towers bordering their neighbourhood. Lucy then decides that she likes the building's reflection of the sky rather than the sky itself. It is tinted shoal with the emerald green glass, and it is enough for her to pretend, on days like that, that when she looks up she can see the clear lake from her childhood. Her father used to smile, and her mother was more than just a memory, then.

There is so much that she's left behind. Her luxury, her security, her fortune, and the worth of her name were given up the moment she left her farewell letter on the covers of her four poster bed, instead of throwing it into the fireplace like a part of her screamed for her to do.

Not a part of her has regretted it since. For as long as she can remember, she has known that she was never meant for that world, of coquetry and flattery, making the "right friends" in the "right places." She has learned that parties aren't as interesting anymore, especially after the thirtieth mark, that the ambitions of handsome, wealthy, and eligible bachelors are not worth sacrificing her own dreams for, no matter what her father may think. And though it had taken her a while, she knows now that she has never held an obligation to martyr herself for the good of her family.

But these are things it seems only she has come to terms with. The rest of that world did not agree, and so she left. She did not work her ass off to get into a prestigious college and graduate with a degree in literature simply to end up as someone else's trophy. And Lucy, with ideas for a bestselling novel swirling around her head, a place as a waitress at a pizzeria, and a job interview for her application as an elementary school librarian for the following Monday, has no plans of ever looking back.

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**V**

_March 13, 2011_

While she generally prefers nights alone, curled by the window pane in a thunderstorm with a cup of coffee and a good book, she is not adverse to a wild night out every now and then. What surprises her is that Levy is there with her of her own free will, sipping beer from a red plastic cup. However, what doesn't surprise her at all is that Levy is adamant about remaining at her place by the wall, swaying awkwardly to a Kanye classic and staring glumly into space. Lucy had been in the bathroom for about five minutes, hoping that she might flourish better on her own, but the preschool teacher is still where she left her. It's just like college.

Lucy blows her bangs out of her eyes and stalks back to her best friend. "Okay, what's the matter? You're the one who wanted to go in the first place."

"I've wanted to get him to talk to me the whole night, but he's been glued to _her_ side the whole night," Levy answers bitterly before downing the last gulps of her drink. The blonde follows her vision to the spot she's been glaring at for the past minutes. She sees a guy, sort-of ripped with long, spiky black hair and piercings all the way from his lips to down his arms –therefore completely Levy's type –talking to another blue haired woman, busty with legs that go on for miles. She muses about how he must definitely have a type, but then she notices the subtly glances he throws in their direction.

Two can play at that game. She grabs the next guy to pass by his sleeve. "Hello, would mind keeping my friend company for about two minutes? I'll be back in a bit. Just stare at her and move your lips around a bit," she says, staring up at the stranger with her doe brown eyes from under her lashes, curling her lip into a smile for good measure.

As luck would have it, he is exceedingly handsome; probably the most attractive guy in the room, with sandy hair, startlingly green eyes, and a killer smile. "Happy to oblige, princess," he winks, and Lucy giggles at him politely out of gratitude before slipping away into farther corners of the room to observe from a safe distance.

The bait is taken within seconds. Gajeel abandons the other girl, who Lucy recognizes as a classmate of hers from high school, and lumbers over to where Levy is. He gives a menacing grin upon approach, and the other guy has no choice but to scurry off as fast as his legs can take him. The blonde smirks in triumph and before plopping onto the couch.

It doesn't take long for her to grab her own piece of attention. It is unfortunately of the unwanted sort. Lucy is predisposed to automatically judge people who wear sunglasses indoors during the night time if they are not visually impaired.

"Hey babe, you feel like going somewhere more fun?" he says in a greasy voice, tipping down his shades to give her a once over.

"I don't trust your somewhere," Lucy replies coldly. The guy scootches nearer, and Lucy backs away in response until her side is digging into the armrest.

"C'mon, blondie, live a little," he drawls. Lucy digs into her clutch for her pepper spray, all the while replying, "Please go fuck yourself." Suddenly another guy appears, leaning over the couch and placing himself directly between the two of them.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you –oh, I'm sorry, were you talking to someone?" The new guy, with pink hair gives the pervert a smile not unlike Gajeel's earlier.

The other man gulps and squeaks, "I'm sorry, I didn't know she was taken!" before taking off with his tail between his legs. Pink-haired guy makes sure to sit down on the very far end of the sofa.

It takes a few minutes of painful silences before Lucy mumbles, "Thanks."

He shakes his head. "It's pretty sad that the only time he would take no for an answer is if you were with another dude."

"Such is the world we live in," Lucy sighs. "But really. Thanks. That was pretty damn…uh, chivalrous."

"Chivalrous? You mean like a knight?" he chuckles in reply. She laughs as well and nods her head. "Nah. I'd say I'm more of a dragon." This makes her smile even wider.

"I'm Lucy," she says, sticking out her hand.

"Natsu," he replies, taking it in his own and shaking it. She scrunches her face and squints her eyes at him from under the dim motley lights.

"You look kind of familiar."

"I do? Well, I'm no good at remembering things. Or people."

"What about stories, then?" she asks, sliding in closer.

"I can remember those. I like them a lot. Know any good ones?"

"As a matter of fact," she smirks, before spinning a tale of fairies, dragons, fantasies and stars. And that is their place in the universe for the rest of the night leaving them to get lost in the staircase she builds one step at a time, making it up as she goes along. He is Peter Pan floating by Wendy's window pane, listening to her stories.

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**VI**

_March 14, 2011_

It is a little past midnight. At some points he gets caught up in things like the way her lips purse as she mulls over where to go next, or the way her hands move around erratically at the action parts. Ultimately though, he is pulled into the story, and is not released until she sighs, "The end."

He doesn't ask for her phone number, or her last name. He doesn't offer to walk her home or out the door, and she doesn't say anything about it. Her cue to leave is her blue haired friend rushing out into the hall. Lucy gives him a peck on the cheek before hastily getting up to follow her. Natsu waves goodbye until she's out of sight. It doesn't bother him that they will probably never meet again. There's no universe in which the princess ends up with the dragon, and there's too much on his plate. Besides, if he did not think Lis could handle taking part in his mess, no stranger at a party, no matter how pretty, could either.

He waits out the dawn sitting on Gajeel's couch, as patient and unmoving as a gargoyle. The other guests slowly leave one by one, until he is all that's left in the mess of a home. Eventually the honourable host, left with no choice, enters the room and sits casually by his side, with his arms hovered over his head and his eyes closed.

"Know who I am, Metalhead?" Natsu says.

"Yeah. You're the brat who knocked over the cake at my tenth birthday party." Natsu grinned widely, flashing his set of unusually sharp canines.

"I don't remember that. I must have been an awesome kid."

"You were a fucking idiot," Gajeel scoffs, and it is only then that he turns his head to look at Natsu. There is a smirk on his face, revealing two rows of teeth similar to Natsu's, if not sharper. "Whaddaya want?"

Natsu considers this for a moment, scratching is chin. "Tell me about your tenth birthday party." Gajeel's eyes widen and he roars with laughter, slapping his knee.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life," he guffaws. "Some stranger comes barging into your house and asks about your birthday party when you were a kid. You made my day, jackass."

The pink haired man glares at him. "My mom died that day, _jackass_," Natsu hisses. Gajeel stops laughing and instead glowers at him.

"That ain't my fucking fault, is it?" Gajeel says smarmily in return.

"Son of a bitch," Natsu snarls before tackling the guy. Gajeel cusses loudly in reply while trying to shield his face. The couch topples over and they're left brawling on the floor. Natsu at first has a distinct advantage, but Gajeel has a bigger build and a good number of years in fighting experience on him. They start rolling around, landing heavy blows at each other's bodies.

"Who's the bitch?" Gajeel yells into Natsu's ears. He'd won their grappling match and currently has him in a full body lock. Natsu manages to escape by elbowing him in the ribs, leaving him gasping for air.

"You are," he wheezes, but then gets hit by Gajeel's kick of retaliation.

Half an hour later, the apartment is an even bigger wreck, with actual splinters of wood and shattered glass on the floor. Both men are bloody; along with their bruises, Natsu has a cut lip and Gajeel a black eye. They sit against the wall, panting heavily to fill the silence. They take one simultaneous look at each other and Natsu starts laughing.

"You look like half a punk rock panda," he says, pointing jeeringly at his face. Gajeel slaps his hand away and growls.

"Well you look like a…a…fucking wimp!" he finishes lamely, causing Natsu to laugh even harder. He cannot help the smile that sneaks its way onto his lips and then suddenly he starts chuckling as well. It appears that whatever mental disease Natsu's got, it's contagious. Gajeel does not recall having laughed that much for a very long time.

"How old are you?" Gajeel asks.

"Twenty-three. So that means that you're probably almost thirty?"

"Twenty-nine, yeah. Ever been trained properly?"

"Trained in what?" Gajeel raises his fists in front of his face and pretends to box an imaginary adversary.

"Oh. Nah."

"Ah. Not bad, though. I mean, for a bitch."

"Thanks. I watched a lot of Dragonball as a kid."

They laugh some more and when it subsides, the silence takes over for a while.

"Oi. I didn't know about your mom." Natsu supposes that this is his own crude but sincere way of apologizing. "She was really pretty. A MILF, now that I think about it." And now he wants to punch him again.

"Do you remember what she was like?" Natsu asks.

"Don't you?" Natsu shakes his head.

"Hm. Well, think about it this way. Our dads were thugs, right? Hired gun? Your mom was nothing like that. She was like a –a fucking Japanese princess. Yakuza lord's daughter, yeah, but she still acted like a princess. She liked to squeeze my cheeks but I didn't mind much 'cause her hands were soft."

"…That is kinda shit creepy."

"It was supposed to be."

Natsu shakes his head, biding his time. He starts whistling a cantata from the age of musical breakthroughs, the later years.

"Oh fuckin God, is that Britney Spears? Stop beating around the bush. Get on with it and get out of my house."

Gajeel is asking for it, so Natsu doesn't feel the need to place any effort at attempting to be tactful. "Where's your dad? I heard he disappeared with my dad. I need to know if they're together, or if he at least knows where my dad is."

The air becomes darker and heavier, somehow. The corner of Gajeel's lip twitches. "Yeah, I know where he is."

Natsu perks up at this. "Great! Where is he?"

"St Gregory Memorial Park."

"Is he homeless? Is that why he lives in the park?"

"It's a cemetery, you moron! He's dead!" Gajeel shouts, twisting around to punch him in the face.

He doesn't even try to dodge, because the revelation hits Natsu first, making him fully aware of its implications. But the conclusion he arrives at is unacceptable, not because it is impossible, but because it would mean that everything he's been chasing the whole time leads him to the edge of a grave, and he feels as though there's someone standing behind him about to push him in. He feels inconsolable, and angrier at his father than ever before. After years of resentment, it really does mean something.

"Oi, snap out of it. I know what you're thinking. Your dad's dead, boohoo, the end," Gajeel says, pouting at him mockingly. Natsu begins to shake with rage. Gajeel's lips twitch and he looks up at the ceiling wonderingly.

"They found his body by the shore, hidden under some rocks," he mumbles. His clenches his fists and takes a deep breath. "That's all they found. He was still in a tuxedo."

The gears start turning in Natsu's head. There's still a chance. Again and again, just after he reaches what looks to be a dead end, there is still a sliver of hope that shows itself. It is vague and trying to grab onto it would be like trying to hold smoke in your hands and save it for another day, but he does exactly that.

He turns to face Gajeel, probably the only person in the world who knows exactly what he's going through and they both know it. He offers a wry but genuine smile, and his hand. Gajeel has to stare at it for a good number of moments before finally reaching out to grasp it.

"Thank you." Gajeel nods at him, and Natsu gets up, dusting the dust and pieces of shattered glass from his body before walking towards the door.

"Dragneel," his voice calls out at the last minute, causing Natsu to whirl around. "Keep walking down this road and you're headed for nothin' but guns and politics, and you're gonna get shot at and at the end of the road all there's gonna be is a grave that might be yours."

"I know."

"Just don't let anyone else get dragged into your mess," Gajeel says, with what Natsu realizes is a pained, guilty expression.

"I don't plan to."

* * *

_to be continued_


End file.
